Page 47 of Voracious

“And here, ladies and gentlemen, is my wonderful boyfriendKadeMitchell.” She zooms in on my abs. “He’s new to the gym, but look at these!” She slaps my sunburn, and I contemplate throwing her off the balcony of our hotel room. “How lucky am I?”

I rub my hair with a towel while she records the room only wearing my black top, no fucking underwear, her hair wet, dragging the camera over the large bath we spent hours in last night. Then she goes onto the balcony to show the camera the view.

The sun is setting over the sea, the sky an orange glow that we’ve watched every night for the last six days. One more night and it’s back to reality.

“And over there” – she points to the cave next to the beach – “is whereKadetold me he loved me for the first time.”

I laugh and pull on my shorts, following her onto the landing.

“He said I was everything to him, and that we were going to grow old together and have loads of babies.” She pouts. “He was drunk, to be fair. So maybe he doesn’t love me.”

So needy. “Idolove you.” My arms wrap around her waist. I was drunk when I confessed my feelings, but they weren’t lies. “You’re exaggerating, Freckles.” I place a soft kiss on her neck. “‘Loads’ wasn’t the word I used. If I remember correctly, you cried and said you loved me too.”

She taps something on her phone, and our faces appear on the screen. “We’re cute.”

I raise a brow, and she flinches when I try to tickle her. “Stop calling me cute.”

“But you are! You put cream on my back and carried my beach bag all day.”

“I was trying to get my hole,” I reply, and she slaps my arm.

“I’m recording this and you keep being dirty!” My girlfriend gives me a look while I slowly work my fingers under her top, skin on skin. She tilts her head to me, so we’re cheek to cheek. “Stop it.” She bats my hands away from groping her tits then changes the subject by saying, “Tell the world,Kade. Who’s the best driver?”

I snort. “This again? Considering you nearly crashed my new car, I’d say you lose this one.”

She rolls her eyes, leaning into me. “What nineteen-year-old has a black Audi anyway? Such a goddamn predictable rich boy.”

“You weren’t complaining when I had you bent over it.”

Stacey groans and lowers her phone. “Hey! I can’t show this to our future kids if you’re going to say things like that!”

I laugh against her neck, hugging her tighter to my body.

She’d asked if I ever wanted kids, albeit we’re only nineteen and nowhere near ready or in a position, but the idea of having a family with her seems so… right. Not now obviously; no one knows we’ve been dating for months, but in years to come, having children with Stacey Rhodes, definitely.

I reckon Mum and Dad andEwanwould rip me apart if I made them grandparents before they’re fifty.

Once we’re ready, we head to the karaoke bar near the hotel. Stacey’s hand is soft in mine, her freckled skin more defined by the sun, her hair shiny and falling down her back in dark waves. She documents everything, videoing our fingers interlocked, the view, the smile on my face when she says something ridiculous.

Fuck. She’s so beautiful.

We’ve come to this bar every night, always ending up smashed and singing on the stage with a dozen older couples. I’d usually be disgusted by mybehaviour, but this holiday is different – we aren’t sneaking away just to have time together like we usually do; we’re an actual couple – in love and preparing to tell our families about our relationship. I can finally tell my friends everything too.

She claims to have softened me, but that’s impossible – I’m always hard.

Her family won’t like me. I’mTobiasMitchell’s son after all. I already met her dad, and he wasn’t happy with me breaking into the yard. Her stepbrother Kyle will have something to say, but I don’t give a shit. My main concern is Stacey and how she’ll feel when everyone tells her she can do way better than me, that she shouldn’t be with the son of a psychopath.

Regardless, we’re in Greece, enjoying the sun, sea and sex. Everything else can fuck off.

Seems like “King and Queens” by Thirty Seconds to Mars is our jam for the night. Stacey asks someone to record us, and I swallow my fifth shot of vodka and follow her to the stage like a lost puppy.

My throat burns from how loud we’re yelling through the chorus. I kiss her in front of the crowd, and they cheer as I lift her into my arms.

When we get back to the hotel room, naked and wrapped up in each other’s bodies, we watch the clip, and it’s as horrid as I expected. Stacey sounds like a drowning cat, and she keeps giggling at her own voice.

But we look happy.

Her giggles turn into a belly laugh as we keep watching the video, as I lift her from the stage, spin her around in my arms while we stumble out of the bar and fall into the sand. We’d stayed there talking for ages before making it back here. Shemust’venot known the recording was still on.

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